tell me the gossip, of course. When a fellow is away in camp, it's
good to get letters from friends at home." Archie's tone was charged
with the sentimentality of his years. He was sorry to turn his back upon
civilization once more, sorry to lose touch with his adopted nieces;
and, above all, most humanly sorry to find that Theodora was taking his
approaching departure in such a philosophical spirit.

"Oh, I'd just as soon write, if you want me to," she answered, while she
settled her collar and gave a feminine tweak to her sleeves; "only I
don't see the use of it. Mamma will be sure to write, and there's no use
wasting stamps in telling you the news twice over."

Assuredly Theodora was not inclined to sentiment, and Archie strolled
away to Hope, in search of appreciation, just as Phebe bounced into the
room. At sight of Theodora's new gown, she halted abruptly.

"I suppose you think you look pretty well," she said crushingly.

"Well, yes, I do," Theodora replied, with feigned indifference, for she
always shrank from Phebe's criticism. "How do you like it?"

Phebe walked around her and inspected her from top to toe with provoking
deliberation.

"It wouldn't be so bad," she remarked at length. "The coat isn't quite
right in the back, somehow; and isn't your hat a little mite one-sided?"

"Oh, Babe, I wish anything ever suited you," Theodora broke out
impatiently. "You always find something wrong somewhere."

But Phebe rebuked her.

"Now, don't get cross, Teddy. Mrs. Farrington won't think you're a good
companion for Billy, if you are as cross as that."

"Companion?"

"Yes. Of course she wouldn't have taken you to New York, if she hadn't
wanted somebody to take care of Billy when she was busy."

Phebe had a genius for aiming her shafts which was far in advance of her
years. Theodora winced; then she turned to her little sister with a sort
of fierceness.

"Who said so?" she demanded.

"I say so," Phebe returned calmly, as she settled herself on the sofa;
"and so does Isabel St. John."

Theodora's exasperation reached a climax.

"If you two children don't stop talking over my affairs, I'll tell
papa," she said in impotent rage, for the McAlister code of honor
scorned brute force, and she dared not give her young sister the shaking
she so richly deserved.

"Tattle-tale!" Phebe replied in brief derision.

Theodora fled to her room, for she felt that she was no match for her
composed young adversary. Hope